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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25715422">blush, pull, push, blame</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaCupcakes/pseuds/JennaCupcakes'>JennaCupcakes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Terror (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Billy's Horrible No Good Third Semester, M/M, and the people he made out with, and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:15:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,187</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25715422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaCupcakes/pseuds/JennaCupcakes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“What was that thing about Cornelius?”</p>
<p>“Nothing, just—" Will inhaled; dropped his arms. “A mistake.”</p>
<p>Irving dropped his gaze. “Oh. Good. I mean—" He looked at Will again, his eyes strangely bright for the low lighting of Will’s bedroom. “Goodnight, William.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>William Gibson/Cornelius Hickey, William Gibson/Lt John Irving</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>blush, pull, push, blame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckye/gifts">Buckye</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from Dessa's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HrEby250bhY">Grade School Games</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They had bought the couch at Ikea the month Will moved into Irving’s apartment. It was the cheapest one in the showroom, with a boring grey cover a price tag that suited their budget, and had found its home on the wall opposite from Will’s bed. Visitors frequently ignored it in favour of said bed, since the couch—a fact that neither Irving nor Will had considered when they bought it—was too small to even comfortably fit two people.</p>
<p>This was why, on Friday afternoon, Irving found Will stuffing his bedding into a cardboard box.</p>
<p>“Georgie is coming over later,” Will said, pausing briefly to catch his breath. “He wants to know if he can borrow your lecture notes over the weekend. Best give him a call.”</p>
<p>Irving scowled. He had taken his shoes off but was still wearing his jacket; halfway through Will’s room into his own. The layout of the apartment was the real reason Irving had shouldered rent alone for as long as he had—to get to his room, he had to pass through the room that was now Will’s. To get to the bathroom, Will had to go through Irving’s room. The kitchen went off from Will’s room. It was alright for a couple, probably, but not for two guys in their mid-twenties who just wanted to share an apartment to avoid starving themselves for their rent.</p>
<p>“Should I call him now?”</p>
<p>Will gave the bedding one last shove, then righted himself. “He said he has class until four.”</p>
<p>“Alright then.” Irving nodded, smoothing his hands over the sides of his coat. “I'll call him then, shall l?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>George “Georgie” Hodgson showed up at quarter past nine with a bottle of the store’s second-cheapest white wine and its cheapest brand of chips. Irving knew him from class. Will had been accepted into their circle mostly by necessity, since his room had the couch and he owned the largest external screen that doubled as their television.</p>
<p>George greeted Irving with a hug and nodded at Will, then made a beeline for the kitchen. The clinking of glass told Will he was helping himself to a cup. Irving trailed him; his perpetual scowl only slightly milder than usual.</p>
<p>“Hope you don't mind,” George said, followed by the tell-tale sound of a screwcap and the sound of wine being poured. Will made it to the kitchen just in time to see Irving shake his head.</p>
<p><em>I don’t drink</em> had been one of the first things Irving had told Will about himself, even before he’d told him just how closely they’d be cohabiting. Will knew that Irving was religious, but he’d never figured out if the abstinence was part of that, some kind of temperance thing, or unrelated to his religiosity. In the end, he didn’t need to know. If he really wanted a drink, he could always go for a beer with Thomas or Hoar. George had never seemed particular about Irving’s preference. He sipped his wine contently as they moved back into Will’s room. Irving and Will settled on the couch by habit; George took the bed, tucking his feet under himself.</p>
<p>“Cornelius asked about you after the seminar today, Billy,” George said conversationally. Will tensed only a little bit. “I’m not speaking to him right now.” George—blissfully unaware of how unmoving Will had become on the couch—forged on. “Wants me to tell you he’s sorry.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Will said, “Anyway.”</p>
<p>The silence that fell was only interrupted by George’ careful sips, and the quiet rustle of Irving shifting uncomfortably where he sat.</p>
<p>“About the lecture notes—" Irving said, and they all relaxed again.</p>
<p>“Yes,” George said.</p>
<p>“You can have them Monday, or you can take a picture. I still need them for my learning diary.”</p>
<p>“I’II take a picture, then." George said. Irving waited while George pulled out his iPhone with the screen that had been cracked for as long as Will had known him and snapped three pictures of Irving’s tight but neat handwriting.</p>
<p>“Do you wanna watch a movie?” Will asked as Irving returned the sheets of paper to their proper folder. George shrugged. “Sounds nice. Did you have something in mind?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Will was getting into his pyjamas when he heard footsteps from Irving’s room. They hesitated briefly behind the closed door. Will had enough time to finish putting on his shirt before the door opened. He turned around.</p>
<p>Irving had his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was wearing his boxers and a t-shirt that read <em>Our Lady of the Immaculate Summer Camp</em>. Will knew for a fact that it was at least seven years old. The sight of Irving in his pyjamas always made Will want to look away. There was something terribly incomplete about him that way, but it made him seem more whole. Like there was a second Irving under the boy scout exterior, one that only Will got to see.</p>
<p>“What was that thing about Cornelius?”</p>
<p>Will crossed his arms in front of his chest reflexively; tried not to think about sharing a cigarette outside Grey’s, huddled under the stoop as the rain poured, and then no longer just huddling. The glint in Cornelius’s eyes, the taste of cigarettes behind his teeth. Tried not to think of that, resolutely, and failed.</p>
<p>“Nothing, just—" He inhaled; dropped his arms. “A mistake.”</p>
<p>Irving dropped his gaze. “Oh. Good. I mean—" He looked at Will again, his eyes strangely bright for the low lighting of Will’s bedroom. “Goodnight, William.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Campus after dark was always strange.</p>
<p>Sometimes, heading home from the library at night, the black behind the windows contrasted with the neon-bright inside made it seem like time had stopped. Will liked to pause before the glass double-doors before heading out to the bus stop; to watch his tall and haggard reflection staring back at him like a ghost.</p>
<p>This was not one of those nights.</p>
<p>All the usual posters that littered the foyer had been taken down. In their place were crepe bands, fairy lights, even some tinsel. Music was pulsing through the room, contraposed by the murmur of conversation. Most of the people in his path were strangers, but Will spotted some familiar faces. There was Edward Little leaning over to yell in Thomas Jopson’s ear. Thomas gave a little wave when he spotted Will, but Will only nodded and moved on through the crowd. The bar beckoned to him, and he followed the call to where the sports student union was selling its own themed mixed drinks. One of the football players was behind the bar. He nodded at Will.</p>
<p>“What can I get you?”</p>
<p>“What’s the strongest you have?”</p>
<p>The guy raised an eyebrow, but otherwise refrained from commenting. “Polar bear on ice,” he said.</p>
<p>"Isn’t that a bit superfluous?”</p>
<p>The guy shrugged. He was really making that beefy-but-cuddly look work for him. “We don’t have any literature students amongst our ranks. We wouldn’t know a redundancy if it bit our noses.”</p>
<p>Will laughed, briefly but earnestly. “I’ll take it.”</p>
<p>“One polar bear on ice, coming right up.”</p>
<p>Will shoved his hands into his pockets, toying with his keys while he waited. In the background, the music changed again, from a fast-paced song he didn’t know to a more rhythmic one he didn’t know.</p>
<p>“I didn’t know you knew Billy, Sol.”</p>
<p>Will didn’t flinch, but it was a near thing. He kept his gaze fixed on the bartender, who was pouring the milky-white mixture of Will’s drink into a glass already filled to the brim with crushed ice. When he was finished, he looked up, meeting the eyes of the small man who had just slithered up next to Will. “Who?”</p>
<p>Cornelius pointed between the two of them. “You two don’t... Oh, alright. Just thought, since you were looking so friendly together.” He elbowed Will in the side. “All chummy, right, Billy?”</p>
<p>Will took his drink from the guy—Sol, his mind supplied—paid in cash and took a deep drink before turning to Cornelius. “Leave off.”</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t talk to me,” Cornelius said, “What’s a guy supposed to do?”</p>
<p>“Leave me alone,” Will said darkly. A quick escape was not in the books; the crowd had only thickened since Will got to the bar. Still he tried, determined that if he could not make a hasty retreat, a slow and determined one would do.</p>
<p>“I just wanna know—is it something I did?” Cornelius was not to be deterred. Will never had been that lucky. “Come on, you can at least tell me that!”</p>
<p>People were staring at them. Will could feel the judging intensity of their gazes even without looking up. The terrace door of the cafeteria offered a welcome escape vector. He ducked through the glass door, followed closely by Cornelius.</p>
<p>The terrace was barely more than a roofed over slab of concrete for smokers to huddle under. It was bordered two metres out by a railing, beyond which the ground fell away rapidly towards the river, covered in thick brush and trees. Beyond the river, the lights of the city twinkled on obliviously. They didn’t care about Will, or what he was running from.</p>
<p>The shock of cold air was welcome. A sharp wind had picked up after sunset; Will thought he could feel the icy crystals in his lungs. He stepped up to the railing, grasping the metal and considering the trees and twinkling lights.</p>
<p>“Listen, Cornelius—"</p>
<p>He turned, then paused when he realised that Cornelius stood closer to him than he had expected. He was smiling ever-so-innocently, and something about it made Will’s heart leap, the same way it had outside Grey’s, just before they kissed.</p>
<p>Will took a step back.</p>
<p>“Relax,” Cornelius said, “I’m not about to fuck you out here.”</p>
<p>Will huffed. “Fuck off.”</p>
<p>He turned back towards the railing. Cornelius put a hand on his arm. “Now, listen—" Will said and turned, which Cornelius took as an opportunity. Before Will could react further, Cornelius had him pinned against the railing and was kissing him again.</p>
<p>Will was bad, for allowing this. He already knew as much, and just like the last time, the part of his brain that told him <em>just a moment longer</em> won out over the part of his brain that insisted <em>no, no, this is bad, no</em>.</p>
<p>“That’s better,” Cornelius said when he drew back, and Will couldn’t quite disagree—it soothed a curiosity in him that had been with him since that night in the club. It answered a question he didn’t want asked. Cornelius kissed him again.</p>
<p>The sounds of the party inside swelled for a moment as the door to the terrace opened, followed by the tell-tale, clattering sound of someone dropping their plastic cup. Will startled and sprung away from Cornelius, just in time to catch Irving’s horrified expression. His heart leapt.</p>
<p>“John—”</p>
<p>Irving was already stumbling back inside.</p>
<p>“Forget about him,” Cornelius said, “Who was that, anyway?”</p>
<p>“My roommate.”</p>
<p>Will felt torn between the insistent presence of Cornelius behind him and the urge to run after Irving, two warring impulses that tethered him to the spot where he stood.</p>
<p>“You have a roommate?” Cornelius crowded him against the railing again. “Hey, look, I know a spot down by the biology labs—”</p>
<p>“I have to go,” Will said. He felt like he was about to vomit out his heart or pass out. He pushed Cornelius away.</p>
<p>“Whatever,” Cornelius called after him, “You’re a dick.”</p>
<p>Inside was too loud and too warm, the press of bodies and lack of air conditioning making the air humid and stale. Will realised he was still holding his drink—he’d barely touched it. He dropped it off on one of the tables, dodging drunk dancers as he kept an eye out for Irving.</p>
<p>He found him by the bus stop, trying to button up his coat with shaking hands.</p>
<p>“John—”</p>
<p>“Please,” Irving said. He took a deep breath, eyes closed, then released it and opened them again. He still didn’t look at Will. “Your private life is none of my business, William.”</p>
<p>“I told you,” Will said because somehow that was more important than anything else, “Cornelius, it’s—he’s nothing. A mistake, nothing more.”</p>
<p>Irving looked at him, something halfway to a smile curving one corner of his mouth upwards. “Do you often repeat your mistakes?”</p>
<p>Will had a repartee readied, but the moment of Irving meeting his eyes stole his words—he was hurt, Will realised. He wanted to look away. The knowledge seemed too much, more than the careful disinterest of flatmates in each other’s private lives could stand. But he didn’t.</p>
<p>Irving narrowed his eyes. He took two steps towards Will. His coat was still half-unbuttoned, and he was shivering almost imperceptibly in the January wind. He had his chin tilted forward, wearing a defiant expression Will had never seen on him.</p>
<p>Irving kissed him.</p>
<p>His lips were cold—he kept his mouth closed, just pressed it firmly against Will’s as though staking a claim, planting a flag. It lasted for perhaps all of three seconds, time frozen around them, even the flickering of the neon lights suspended for a moment. Will’s eyes were wide open with shock. Then Irving drew back, and Will stumbled backwards.</p>
<p>“I—” Irving said. He stopped, casting his gaze down towards his shoes and the gravel mixed with the slush of snowmelt. He licked his lips.</p>
<p>Will longed for something to say. The movement of Irving’s tongue—pink, he thought helplessly and wondered what it would feel like pressing into his mouth—had stolen his thoughts. Were he a little bit more like Cornelius, he would have seized Irving by his half-unbuttoned coat and pressed him against the glass of the bus stop to find out what it would feel like.</p>
<p>The roaring of a heavy diesel engine cut his chance short.</p>
<p>“That’s our bus,” Irving said. Will watched the hulking red shape crawl into view, its headlights cutting cones of light through the falling snow. He was starting to shiver. “My coat’s still inside,” he said, “You go ahead.”</p>
<p>Irving nodded curtly, then stepped on the bus, flashing the driver his bus card. Will waved off the driver’s querying look. Still he stood, and watched as the bus pulled away, Irving seated on the far side of the aisle in the back half of the bus. Will watched him until the bus had pulled out of view.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He headed back inside, to the heat and humidity and—most importantly—the coat check. George tried to cajole him into another drink, as did Jopson when he spotted Will, coming off the dance floor with Ned in tow. Will made his excuses as he wrapped his scarf around his neck and pulled on his gloves.</p>
<p>“I have to study tomorrow.”</p>
<p>They protested and expressed their dismay. He assured them he’d stay longer if he could.</p>
<p>Then, finally, he was back outside, eyeing the bus schedule in the neon light. The urgency to get home was burning now. Would Irving still be up by the time he got back? In Will’s mind, he would sit on the couch in Will’s room, nails bit down and eyes bright with anticipation. He’d look up when Will came through the door; that defiant look back on his face. And then—</p>
<p>Here, Will’s imagination failed him. Irving was the third man he’d kissed, the fifth person he’d kissed in his life. Would Irving kiss him again? Did Will want him to?</p>
<p>“So what’s the deal with you two? He your boyfriend or something?”</p>
<p>Will closed his eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a lot in common with rats, Cornelius?”</p>
<p>“What, because I’m small?” Cornelius ambled up with a cigarette between his fingers, and a grin that showed his perfect teeth. “You know it’s not nice to make fun of a man’s size. I mean, you haven’t even seen—”</p>
<p>“Because you’re hard to get rid of,” Will said loudly. His sanity could not stand to hear the rest of that sentence. A frown crossed Cornelius’s face, like a cloud in front of the sun on a summer day. Nothing could dampen his grin for long.</p>
<p>“I like to think of myself as tenacious,” Cornelius said. Will scoffed.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The lights were off in Will’s room when Will got back, but there was a sliver of light under Irving’s door. Will kicked off his shoes and unwound his scarf while keeping his eyes fixed on that bright strip with an intensity that should have ignited the wood of the door. He got his coat and his gloves off before a shadow passing through the light betrayed that Irving was still up.</p>
<p>Will took a deep breath. His hand was shaking when he knocked.</p>
<p>Irving opened the door with a scowl so deep the lines must have etched themselves into his forehead permanently. He was dressed in his pyjamas already, a plain olive shirt and boxer shorts.</p>
<p>“Could I use the bathroom?”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Irving stepped back. Some of the lines on his forehead softened. “Yes.”</p>
<p>Will forced himself to tear his eyes away from Irving, to not even think of him as he shuffled past Irving into the small bathroom and locked the door behind himself. Instead, he focussed on his reflection in the mirror while brushing his teeth, letting the water run so he wouldn’t have to hear Irving move about his room.</p>
<p>He changed into his pyjamas. He splashed cold water on his face. He wondered if he should shave.</p>
<p>Irving was folding clothes from the basket of clean laundry when Will stepped back out of the bathroom. He put down the t-shirt he was holding when Will emerged. Irving’s gaze made Will too aware of his own body, his size and limbs and hands and the way in which they betrayed—</p>
<p>“Goodnight, John,” Will said. He moved past Irving on his way to the door, taking care to keep his eyes away. The hand encircling his wrist caught him aback. He turned.</p>
<p>Irving looked with surprise at his hand wrapped around Will’s bony wrist, as though his own body had betrayed him. Then, just as quickly, his mouth was on Will’s.</p>
<p>There was nothing of the schoolboy innocence to their kiss this time. Irving crowded Will against the dresser, Will’s hands grasping for Irving’s hips to steady himself. The cotton of his pyjamas was soft under Will’s hands as though made pliable by Irving’s warmth. Irving’s mouth was unpractised but enthusiastic—not that Will had much experience to weigh against Irving’s. He shivered.</p>
<p>Irving drew back more slowly this time, returning twice for a wet press of lips when Will had already steeled himself for the retreat. Irving licked his lips like he was chasing the taste of Will’s mouth. Will let go of him because it felt like the appropriate thing to do. Irving cleared his throat.</p>
<p>They stood, caught up in the spiderweb of the moment, knowing the next movement would have to destroy something delicate.</p>
<p>“Goodnight, William,” Irving said without meeting his eye.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am also on tumblr as <a href="https://veganthranduil.tumblr.com/">veganthranduil</a>, where I will be producing more niche content catering to my specific tastes. If you want to make me very happy, consider leaving a comment.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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